Of ancient writ unlocks the learned store,
Confults the dead, and lives paft ages o'er ;
Cr wand'ring thoughtful in the filent wood,
Attends the duties of the wife and good,
T'observe a mean, be to himself a friend,
To follow nature, and regard his end;

Or looks on heav'n with more than mortal eyes,
Bids his free foul expatiate in the skies,
Amid her kindred ftars familiar roam,
Survey the region, and confefs her home!
Such was the life great Scipio once admir'd;
Thus Atticus, and Trumbal thus retir'd.

IBID.

P. 48.

THAMES.

IN that bleft moment, from his oozy bed Old father Thames advanc'd his rev'rend head. His treffes dropp'd with dews, and o'er the ftream His fhining horns diffus'd a golden gleam : Grav'd on his urn appear'd the Moon, that guides His fwelling waters, and alternate tides; The figur'd ftreams in waves of filver roll❜d, And on her banks Augufta rofe in gold; Around his throne the fea-born Brothers ftood, Who fwell with tributary urns his flood! First the fam'd authors of his ancient name, The winding Ifis, and the fruitful Thame : The Kennet fwift, for filver eels renown'd; The Loddon flow, with verdant alders crown'd;

Coln,

Coln, whofe dark ftreams his flow'ry islands lave;
And chalky Wey, that rolls a milky wave:
The blue transparent Vandalis appears;
The gulphy Lee his fedgy treffes rears ;
And fullen Mole, that hides his diving flood;
And filent Darent, ftain'd with Danish blood.

High in the midft, upon his urn reclin'd, (His fea-green mantle waving with the wind) The God appear'd: he turn'd his azure eyes Where Windfor-domes and pompous turrets rife! Then bow'd and spoke; the winds forget to roar, And the hush'd waves glide softly to the shore. IBID. P. 52.

PEA C. E.

OH, ftretch thy reign, fair Peace! from shore to fhore,

Till Conqueft cease, and Slav'ry be no more;
Till the freed Indians, in their native grovės,

Reap their own fruits, and woo their fable loves,
Peru once more a race of kings behold,
And other Mexicos be roof'd with gold.
Exil'd by thee from earth to deepest hell,
In brazen bonds, fhall barb'rous Discord dwell:
Gigantic Pride, pale Terror, gloomy Care,
And mad Ambition shall attend her there:
There purple Vengeance bath'd in gore retires,
Her weapons blunted, and extinct her fires:

There

There hateful Envy her own fnakes shall feel,
And Perfecution mourn her broken wheel:
There Faction roar, Rebellion bite her chain,
And gafping Furies thirst for blood in vain.

IBID. P. 55.

ODE FOR MUSIC

O'N

ST. CECILIA'S DAY.

I.

DESCEND, , ye Nine! descend, and fing;

The breathing inftruments infpire;

Wake into voice each filent ftring,
And sweep the founding lyre!
In a fadly-pleafing strain

Let the warbling lute complain :
Let the loud trumpets found,

'Till the roofs all around

T'he fhrill echoes rebound:

While in more lengthen'd notes, and flow,
The deep, majestic, folemn organs blow..
Hark! the numbers foft and clear

Gently steal upon the ear;

Now louder, and yet louder rise,

And fill with fpreading founds the skies.

Exulting in triumph now fwell the bold notes:
In broken air, trembling, the wild mufic floats;

"Till,

"Till, by degrees, remote and small,
The strains decay,

And melt away

In a dying, dying fall.

By Mufic, minds an equal temper know,
Nor fwell too high, nor fink too low.
If in the breaft tumultuous joys arife,
Music her foft affuafive voice applies;

Or, when the foul is prefs'd with cares,
Exalts her in enlivening airs.
Warriors she fires with animated sounds;
Pours balm into the bleeding lover's wounds;
Melancholy lifts her head,
Morpheus roufes from his bed,

Sloth unfolds her arms, and wakes,
Lift'ning Envy drops her fnakes;

Inteftine War no more our paffions wage,
And giddy Factions hear away their rage.

III.

But when our Country's caufe provokes to arms, How martial mufic bofom warms!

every

So, when the first bold veffel dar'd the feas,

High on the stern the Thracian rais'd his strain,
While Argo faw her kindred trees
Defcend from Pelion to the main.
Transported demi-gods stood round,
And men grew heroes at the found,

Inflam'd

Inflam'd with glory's charms:
Each chief his fev'nfold fhield difplay'd,
And half unfheath'd the fhining blade;
And feas, and rocks, and fkies rebound,
To arms! to arms! to arms!

IV.

But when through all th’infernal bounds,
Which flaming Phlegeton furrounds,
Love, ftrong as Death, the Poets led
To the pale nations of the dead,
What founds were heard,

What scenes appear'd,
O'er all the dreary coafts!
Dreadful gleams,

Difmal fcreams,

Fires that glow,

Shrieks of woc,

Sullen moans,

Hollow groans,

And cries of tortur'd ghosts!

But, hark! he ftrikes the golden lyre ;
And, fee! the tortur'd ghofts refpire;
See, fhady forms advance!

Thy ftone, O Sisyphus! ftands ftill,
Ixion refts upon his wheel,

And the pale spectres dance!

The Furies fink upon their iron beds,